


One Picnic in Princeton

by Amberstarry



Series: House M.D. [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escapism, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Picnics, Sandwiches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberstarry/pseuds/Amberstarry
Summary: They had been in the cafeteria a few days prior, talking about the mundanity of work when House had teasingly brought up the idea of picnicking to relieve their boredom. Wilson had known it was a joke, but he decided to take up the offer anyway.





	One Picnic in Princeton

  Wilson stared up at the cloud strewn sky and wondered just how he had gotten there. It all seemed surreal - the feel of the soft grass underneath him, the heat of the summer sun, the gentle bend of the flower stem that he held in his hand. He lifted it up to his eyes and examined the dandelion head for a moment, making sure that it wasn’t some sort of hallucination. The world was slower somehow, almost dreamlike. He could feel the cool earth beneath his bare feet, the warm breeze brushing through his hair. For the first time in a long time he was at peace and the sensation resonated through him like an anodyne to years of stress.

  He rolled his head to the side and looked at House. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, and if Wilson didn’t know better he would have said he was sleeping. They laid in a mirrored position, stretched out in opposite directions with their heads side by side, so close that if Wilson had eyes on the top of his head he might have been able to see his hair tickling the side of House’s chin. The diagnostician’s face looked much younger from this angle, the weathered lines of his skin barely visible in the afternoon sunlight. Wilson smiled without realising he was doing so and at that moment House slowly opened his eyes, blinking up at the sun to bring the world back into focus. After a few seconds he turned to meet his friend’s gaze, their faces now mere millimeters apart.

  “Why are you so happy?” He asked, taking in Wilson’s beaming expression.

  “I don’t know,” Wilson answered. “I just am.”

  House stared at him for a moment. It seemed like he wanted to smile as well, but couldn’t quite get there. Instead he licked his lips, his eyes giving him away as they glistened with contentedness. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, but neither man paid attention to it.

  “I haven’t been on a picnic in years,” Wilson mused, studying the crease between House’s eyes as he spoke. “Thank you for suggesting this.”

  “You do realise I was being sarcastic when I said we should go on a picnic,” House replied, watching Wilson’s eyes as they slowly moved over his face. “I didn’t think you’d actually drag me out here.” They had been in the cafeteria a few days prior, talking about the mundanity of work when House had teasingly brought up the idea of picnicking to relieve their boredom. Wilson had known it was a joke, but he’d decided to take up the offer anyway, feeling they could both use a change of scenery for once. House hadn’t been too happy about being taken literally, but Wilson had somehow convinced him to play along, and now here they were, together in a park, picnic basket and all.  

  Wilson ignored House’s baiting, for once too relaxed to feed into his cynicism. “I know, but it sounded like a nice idea. Besides, the fresh air and vitamin D are probably doing both of us good.”

  “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

  “Neither can I.”

  They held each other’s gaze, a moment of silence falling over them before they burst into laughter. House turned back to the sky and sat up, reaching for the picnic basket that sat next to them. Wilson had spent the morning meticulously crafting all the food concealed within the large wicker carrier. There were various sandwiches, a tupperware container of homemade potato salad and even a cheesecake topped with fresh berries for dessert in there. Preparing food was one of the oncologist’s greatest pleasures, and he happily jumped at any opportunity to flex his cooking muscles. Luckily for him, eating was one of House’s greatest (and only) pleasures and he was all too happy to gobble up anything his best friend prepared. He made a sound of approval when he opened the basket and peered inside, pulling out two sandwiches and tossing one onto Wilson’s chest without bothering to ask if he was hungry.

  Wilson picked up the sandwich and examined it. “Ah - pastrami, tomato, avocado, lettuce and cheese. I was hoping I would get this one.”

  House looked at his own sandwich. “Ah, a sandwich with stuff in it. Just what the doctor ordered, and by doctor I obviously mean _me_.”

  “Make fun of me all you want, but I make damn good sandwiches.” Wilson shot House a cocky smirk.

  House had no response to that, but he did give Wilson a drawn out stare before unwrapping his sandwich. He wasn’t quite as enthralled about being in the middle of a public park as Wilson was, but he seemed comfortable enough. In any case the food would keep him occupied for a while yet, so the oncologist could enjoy himself a bit longer before any whining began.  

  Wilson put his sandwich to the side, not particularly hungry just yet. He looked back up at the clouds and tried to make sense of their forms. One looked distinctly like a duck, another like the giant tennis ball House kept on his desk. Or it could have just been a sphere, clouds were pretty indiscriminate. They slowly moved across his field of vision, morphing into nondescript blotches over the brilliant blue sky. Wilson was transfixed on the richness and clarity of the colour, until his view was suddenly obscured by a coat of shaggy fur. In a split second he was up, gasping in shock from being winded by the weight of whatever had jumped on him. He was still trying to figure out what exactly had happened when the sounds of a dog growling and a woman’s apologetic voice reached his ears simultaneously.

  “Dara! Bad girl! I am so sorry, she’s never done this before.”

  Wilson looked to his right and saw a young woman, probably a few years his junior standing next to him. She was quite attractive - mousy brown shoulder length hair, large hazel eyes and full pink lips. If he wasn’t currently trying to process what was happening, he might have actually started a conversation with her. As it stood, he couldn’t bring himself to do much beyond gape dumbly as he tried to understand what she was apologising for. Fortunately, House’s voice cut in and clarified things.

  “Would you get your dog out of here! It’s ruining our food!”

  Wilson turned to face him and caught sight of a small white dog ripping at the sandwich he had put on the ground a few minutes earlier. It growled as it tore through the cling wrap and decimated the food within. The woman, who up until this point had been standing next to Wilson and House watching in bewilderment, stepped forward and picked up the dog before it could do any more damage. The half-eaten sandwich dangled from the animal’s snout as it was lifted into the air and the woman groaned in embarrassment.

  “I can’t believe this. I hope the rest of your food is okay,” she said, glancing at the picnic basket.

  “Learn to control your animal,” House said, picking up his cane which had been lying in the grass beside him and pointing it at her accusingly. “You’re lucky it was just one sandwich.”

  Wilson could see the dismay on the woman’s face and knew he had to step in before House ripped her a new orifice on principal. Somehow he managed to find his voice and interjected before the diagnostician could continue his dressing down. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Just a sandwich.”

  The corner of the woman’s lips twitched slightly at Wilson’s calm tone and she nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone, I’m sure you don’t want me wasting any more of you time. Sorry again, I promise I won’t let her back in this area.”

  “Good,” House responded curtly, squeezing his cane.

  Before Wilson could say anything the woman turned on her heel, dog in hand, and hurried away from his and House’s picnic spot. He turned to House and shook his head. “Why do you have to be so rude?”

  “Her dog almost ruined the food you spent the entire morning slaving over. The question is how can _you_ be so _polite_?” House countered, nudging Wilson with his cane.

  “Because I’m a human being,” Wilson answered, “and it was only one sandwich. We have plenty more to eat.”

  House rolled his eyes. “God, one glance at a hot chick and you’re already so far up her vagina you’re able to set up camp. Here’s a tip: just because you can charm any lady you want, doesn’t mean you should.”

  Wilson grabbed the cane out of House’s hands and poked him in the side with it. “I’d never be able to charm a lady with you sitting next to me. For starters, you’d ruin any chance I had with your big mouth, and no girl would come within fifty feet of us anyway because we look like such an old married couple.” The oncologist paused, thinking about the ramifications of what he’d just said.

  House took Wilson’s silence as an opportunity to snatch his cane back. “Don’t try and use our relationship as a deflection to your philandering. You’re a slut, wear it like a badge of honour.”

  “I am not a slut and I was not hitting on her,” Wilson grumbled. “Just because basic human decency eludes you doesn’t mean it isn’t a thing.”

  “Whatever, slut.”

  Wilson sighed and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his wrists. Whatever respite he’d been feeling earlier had almost completely dissipated. Was it too much to ask for just a few hours of reprieve? It seemed like his life was a never-ending stream of bad news; just yesterday he had to hand a death sentence - stage three bone cancer - to an eight year old. He knew it was all part of the job, but even oncologists had a breaking point and looking into a dying child’s eyes was Wilson’s. This picnic had been his attempt at escapism and it had been quite successful up until five minutes ago, but as usual something had to go wrong. Now he was right back to being miserable again.

  The rustling of cling wrap reminded him that House was still next to him, now presumably going back to his sandwich after their unceremonious interruption. Once, just once, he wished House would drop the misanthropy and be nice. That’s all he asked, for his best friend to pat him on the back every now and again and tell him things were going to be okay. Instead he got slapped over the head with inexorable logic every time he so much as hinted at having a problem. It was something he was both thankful for and resentful of. Sometimes he needed a harsh dose of reality, but it would have been nice to have a shoulder to cry on too. He took in a deep, shaky breath and let his hands drop to his lap.

  “Wilson, are you okay?”

  He looked over at House who was holding his sandwich in one hand and staring at him concernedly. “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

  House put his sandwich down on top of the picnic basket and eyed him levelly. “You’re crying.”

  Wilson blinked and lifted a hand to his cheek. To his surprise he felt the unmistakable dampness of tears. He pulled away and looked at it, seeing the liquid sheen on his fingertips. House was right, he hadn’t even realised it was happening.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he told House honestly, but now that the floodgates had opened and he was aware of it, he couldn’t keep it in. His voice began to strain and as he heard himself speak he realised the words were coming out in sobs.

  House awkwardly shifted on the spot and tapped his finger on his knee. He was aloof at the best of times, but with Wilson having a breakdown right in front of him he didn’t really have a choice but to do something. “Why are you crying?” He asked, at a loss for anything else to say.

  “I - _hup_ \- didn’t - _hup_ \- even realise I was,” Wilson gasped out, curling into himself to try and hide from House’s unwavering gaze. This was so embarrassing. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be feeling like shit on the inside, now his mental pain was on display for everybody to see. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die - that is if the humiliation didn’t kill him first. Thinking about it just made him feel even worse, and his crying continued to intensify. Soon his whole body was heaving with each gasping sob that came out of him. He wrapped his arms around his knees and prayed that it would soon pass.

  It shocked him when he felt a hand gently squeeze his shoulder, and even more so when said hand slid across his back to wrap around him in a comforting hug. He looked up slowly, thinking he must have been going mad because House couldn’t really have been _hugging_ him. It just wasn’t possible, that wasn’t the Gregory House he knew and if their fifteen years of friendship had been anything to go by, it never would be. Yet when he lifted his head, there House was, refusing to make eye contact but firmly keeping his arm around Wilson all the same.

  “Don’t read too much into this,” House said, knowing full well that Wilson was staring at him in awe despite keeping his own eyes fixed dead ahead. “I’m doing this as a public service.”

  The dissonance between House’s actions and his words was enough to make Wilson crack, and he let out a small chuckle. “Thank you,” he whispered, unable to think up a more poignant response.

  House stared ahead silently for a few seconds, contemplating what was going on. Wilson could practically see the cogs turning in his head, trying to make sense of what this breakdown meant. After what felt like an eternity House finally turned to him and met his eyes, his bright blue irises piercing him with their intensity. “If your job is getting to you this much, why don’t you just quit?”

  It was amazing how quickly House could figure him out, by this point he had gotten it down to a science - so perfect that Wilson didn’t even have to say anything because House could read him like a book regardless. Wilson shrugged. “I love being an oncologist, and I love the people I work with. If I left I wouldn’t be able to see them, I wouldn’t be able to see _you_ everyday. How many people get to work on a daily basis with their best friend?”

  House listened silently, carefully calibrating his response. “You shouldn’t kill yourself for me,” he said slowly, like he was worried the words might break Wilson if he spoke them any other way.

  “I’m not,” said Wilson, “I’m killing myself for my own happiness. I’m so screwed up that the few things which make me happy are also the things that tear me apart. I can’t escape, I don’t want to escape.” Wilson sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “It will be okay,” House said, giving Wilson’s shoulders a gentle squeeze.

  Wilson looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you just reassure me?”

  House glanced at him. “Yeah. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know. Thank you anyway.”

  The diagnostician let go of Wilson and turned around to the picnic basket. WIlson watched as House ruffled around with the contents of the basket for a few seconds before turning back with a wad of serviettes in hand. He offered them to Wilson wordlessly, who took them gratefully and wiped his face. His breathing had evened out slightly and he felt like the tears had dried up for now. The heaviness in his heart remained though, and he knew that it would most likely linger for the rest of the day now that it had settled in. He looked back over at House who had been quietly observing him clean himself up and let his arms fall down to rest on his knees.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked, as always highly suspicious of House’s sudden altruism.

  House shot him a confused look. “You know, anybody else would just shut up and take the kindness. Only you would feel the need to question it.”

  Wilson huffed. “You don’t do ‘nice’ for the sake of making people feel better. There must be some kind of ulterior motive you’ve conjured up in that twisted mind of yours.”

  “I’m offended at the idea that you’d think my kindness is anything less than completely genuine.” House put his hand on his heart. “I’m a nice guy when I want to be.”

  “If by ‘nice’ you mean you’d use me as a human shield just for the fun of it, then sure, you’re a ray of sunshine.” Wilson looked at House pointedly. “You and I both know you think kindness is insincere bullshit, so what’s your endgame?”

  House picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. “To get you to make me more sandwiches,” was his muffled reply.

  Wilson remained unconvinced. “I’d believe that if you didn’t steal my sandwiches every day at work.”

  “You can never have too many sandwiches,” House said through his mouthful of food, accidentally spraying Wilson with breadcrumbs in the process. Wilson scrunched his eyes shut to protect himself from House’s spit, causing some of the crumbs to get stuck in his fringe and on his eyebrows. When he opened his eyes again House was staring back at him innocently, chewing on the remainder of his bite.

  This is what his life had come to, Wilson thought; sitting next to House while he got doused in half-chewed breadcrumbs and ignored every time he asked a sensible question. He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it, he was the one who had chosen to put up with House all these years after all; why House had bothered to put up with him wasn’t as clear. That’s what bugged him, what he just couldn’t get his head around no matter how hard he’d tried. House, the single most antisocial person he had ever met, would not leave him alone. In fact Wilson couldn’t have gotten rid of him even if he’d wanted to - House would always weasel his way back into his life, because that’s what he always did. If Wilson ran, House followed. Simple as that. _Why_ though, what about James Evan Wilson, a common oncologist with three divorces under his belt, was so compelling that it kept a complete misanthrope around for over a decade? It was unfathomable that he was the one House had chosen to pursue. He was attracted to interesting people, people with weird secrets, people who did unspeakable things, people who he could decode and analyse. Wilson was just an average guy with an above average tendency to screw up his personal relationships. By House’s standards, he wasn’t worth the time of day. So why was House here, in the middle of Princeton-Plainsboro Reserve, on a picnic with Him?

  House paused his chewing and swallowed abruptly. Most of his sandwich was now gone, and he would have finished it had Wilson not been silently staring at him for the last five minutes. He lowered his hands and shot Wilson an unimpressed eye roll. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s not working.”

  Wilson blinked and pulled back slightly, causing some of the crumbs to fall off his head from the movement. When he saw the bits of bread fall past his eyes he realised he still hadn’t shaken himself clean and ruffled his hair to get the offending crumbs out, before returning his gaze back to his friend. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were giving me the goo-goo eyes,” House clarified, amused by the fact that several crumbs remained lodged in Wilson’s ridiculously thick eyebrows even after his attempt to get rid of them.

  “You wish,” Wilson rebuffed, gesturing at House with his chin.

  “Do I?” House countered, tilting his head forward and looking into Wilson’s eyes the way he always did when he tried to get a rise out of people.

  “Maybe,” Wilson replied, unfazed by House’s taunts. “It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to have happened to me.”

  “You realise you’re saying you’d be okay with coming on to me,” House said, obviously trying to push Wilson as far as he could, but failing to realise that for once he really didn’t care.

  “I thought I already established that when we realised Amber was a female substitute for you,” Wilson said, truly indifferent to how it may have sounded. Once upon a time he had been self-conscious about how his sexuality came off whenever he was in close proximity to House, but these days it seemed to be increasingly less relevant as people made their assumptions either way.

  House studied him for a moment, gauging the authenticity of Wilson’s nonchalance. An air of confidence washed over his features and he smirked, leaning in closer to the oncologist. “So I guess you won’t mind me doing this, then?”

  Wilson cocked an eyebrow but didn’t move. “And what does enveloping me in your sandwich breath prove, exactly?”

  House ignored Wilson’s remark and continued moving closer. “Starting to get uncomfortable?” He teased, refusing to back down.

  “Only with the amount of stress lines on your face.” Wilson smirked. “You really should consider a better skin care regime.”

  The gap between their faces kept shrinking. “My skin care routine is flawless. Everyday I bathe my head in the blood of my enemies,” House quipped. “Really gives me that youthful glow.”

  “I beg to differ,” Wilson said, the mischievous glint in his eyes daring House to keep up in their tennis match of wits.

  House’s nose bumped the tip of Wilson’s and he stopped. They were now so close their breaths were mingling together and they could see nothing but each other’s eyes. Wilson flicked his gaze down to look at their noses, making himself go cross eyed in the process before looking back up. “What are you gonna do now?”

  “I don’t know,” House said, keeping his eyes firmly on Wilson’s.

  “You were expecting me to back down,” Wilson said, “but now you’re stuck. If you move away you forfeit, and therefore you lose. If you get any closer you’d be kissing me, therefore admitting that you wouldn’t mind coming on to me either, and you lose.” He smiled. “Just admit it, I’ve bea-” but Wilson’s analysis was cut off midway by House tilting his chin forward and closing the gap between them once and for all. Wilson squeaked, his eyes bulging out in shock as his best friend gently pressed their lips together before quickly pulling back with a smirk.

  “Sometimes it’s fun to lose,” House replied as a stunned Wilson gawped at him.

  Wilson’s cheeks flushed a pretty hue of pink and he turned away, blinking in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  House shrugged. “I’m full of surprises. Incidentally, you’re a pretty good kisser.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Nah.”

  Wilson shot House a disgruntled look and reached over for the remaining part of House’s sandwich, which had long been discarded by the diagnostician. House watched him curiously and arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “Eating your sandwich,” Wilson replied, shoving it into his mouth.

  “I’m the one who steals food,” House said, knowing full well they had moved way beyond the normalcy of culinary theft at this point.

  Wilson swallowed his bite. “No, you’re the one that steals kisses.”

  House groaned and turned away. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  For once Wilson felt like he had the upper hand and it was very gratifying. He smiled and shook his head. “Nope.”

  The diagnostician looked up at the sky and squinted at the glaring sunlight. He grimaced slightly but didn’t look away. “This picnic could have been worse,” he mused. “I mean, it would have been better if you hadn’t balled like a baby, but all things considered, it’s been fairly decent.”

  Wilson hesitated for a moment before scooching over to House and resting his head on the diagnostician’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get punched for this, especially since they were out in public, but considering House had just kissed him he’d decided to take his chances. “I love you too, Greg.”

  “I never said that,” House retorted, looking down at Wilson who had presumptuously taken repose on his arm. The oncologist didn’t reply, instead opting to close his eyes and ruminate on the peace that had returned to their little picnic spot. House looked away and noticed the lady with the food-destroying dog some meters away, playing fetch with what appeared to be a large branch. The wrappings from his and Wilson’s sandwiches laid around them on the picnic blanket, the other fruits of Wilson’s labour left untouched in the basket.

  As he laid on House’s shoulder, Wilson smiled to himself and to his relief, felt the calm he had been experiencing earlier wash over him again. There would be time to question all of this, but right now nothing seemed more appealing than drifting off to sleep in the warmth of the sun, supported by his best friend. For that - all his worries, the hospital, his job - it could wait. At this moment he was too busy being happy.

  He didn’t realise how tired he was, and within a matter of minutes he felt himself being lulled by House’s body heat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Just before he drifted off completely, House’s voice sounded off one last time, following him into sleep.

  “I love you, James.”

 

~Fin~  


**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write another fic for House and Wilson because, well, it's fun. Also, Wilson needs more love. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Amber***


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